Monday, August 1, 2011

Fire and water

A hardy few gathered around the burning brazier trying to pretend it was a balmy evening for cocktails in the garden. Sat in hats and wrapped in blankets we called it a night very early on. Ms Tagalong had wanted to go to see Ms Chicken Whisperer who had come down to Newcastle visiting from very cool pastures.

'And how are the chickens settling in?' Ms Tagalong questioned. Ms Chicken Whisperer laughed and told of the amorous roosters in her new home.

Last seen by Ms Tagalong, Lucy was pretty patchy looking, naked even, having been pecked and picked on by the rest of the flock. Are there flocks of chickens? Maybe this nudity had spurned on the randy cockerel who chased her up and down trees to try to have his wicked way. So instead of being bottom of the pecking order Lucy might change her status and become the loved matriarch of her new family, beloved wife and concubine of the chief rooster.

Members of the garden and other local yokels mustered along the foreshore to plant some trees for National Tree Planting Day. Disappointedly only 6 trees arrived as
two others had been euthanased and the rest were held in quarantine. The dreaded rust! However, not to be outmanouvred, rocks were moved, others were levered into position and the ground was crow barred into submission, filled with topsoil and made ready for quarantine end.

In fact Sunday was such a whirl of social events that Ms Mova and Ms Tagalong let the girls fend for themselves. Plenty of eggs for Monday's collection?

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